


assorted redfish extravaganza from tumblr

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bars and Pubs, Canon Gay Character, Fish Puns, Hook-Up, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Meet-Cute, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Slash, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 22:43:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14091318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: or: I actually have a couple more fics for my crackship of choice that I wrote on tumblr back in the day which I never reposted to AO3, so I figured I'd just do a round-up here so you don't get spammed and I don't have to kill myself finding titles. Specifically, we have:one: they hook up at a bar;two: brynden owns a pet fish shop, jon needs to buy some.Will be updated if I have more that I don't feel like posting separately in the future. :)





	1. in which they meet at a bar

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for tumblr user greyjoysexual (ie the only other person who stanned these two from the beginning and with whom I coded the amazing shipname above u__u) who wanted _Redfish meet in a bar. Scenario? Jon C. is hiding because he doesn't want to be the best man at Rhaegar's wedding. There he meets a charming older gentleman who suggests they skip town together :)_ Here you go guys.

It’s probably the coward’s way out of it, Jon thinks as he downs his third glass of whiskey, but like  _hell_  he’s going back to the table before the next… half an hour, at least. Well, he’s going back the moment he’s sure that Rhaegar asked Arthur to be his bloody best man so he doesn’t have to risk Rhaegar asking  _him_ , and maybe by the time it’s happened everyone is going to be drunk enough that no one will notice how horribly he’s pining.

Maybe he should have just  _told_  Rhaegar at some point in the previous fifteen years, but he knows that the pros would have outweighed the Huges Con Of Them All, it being making it weird. The least thing he’d have wanted was for their relationship to somehow turn awkward because Rhaegar  _knew_ , and thing is - if he had had half a chance maybe Jon would have gone for it, but fact is, the man he’s been in love with since they were kids is unquestionably heterosexual and there’s just no way he’d reciprocate.

Still, it means that since Rhaegar has no clue, he can’t know how much Jon does  _not_  want to go to his wedding the day after tomorrow or how much Jon would rather be on the sidelines. Sure as hell he doesn’t want to be the best man or anything else that requires him interacting with both Rhaegar and Elia more than strictly necessary. Which is why he cooked up an excuse about wanting to explain the barman which cocktail he’d like and has left everyone else to Rhaegar’s stag party - at least it’s not a strip club, thank fuck for small favors.

Of course, he hasn’t gotten any  _cocktails_  - he’s just gone straight for the whiskey, but it’s his luck that he has a fairly high tolerance. So he’s at the third glass and he’s  _maybe_  buzzed, but it’s gonna be long before he’s truly and properly drunk.

_Fuck my life and the day I realized I was in love with him_ , he thinks as he asks for a refill.

And then -

“You don’t look like you’re having a good evening.”

Jon turns towards his left and - huh. Someone just sat next to him. Someone who has maybe ten, fifteen years on him at most - he can see grey streaks in his red hair, but the majority of it is still the original color. And for being on the early side of forties, Jon has to notice, the guy is in  _very_  good shape - the black clothes he’s wearing are all fitting to a body that looks fairly lithe, and he has a pair of nice blue eyes that, for some reason, seem quite -  _understanding_?

“Understatement of the century,” Jon sighs as the barman refills his drink. “How about you?”

“Not the best for me, either,” the guy agrees, and is Jon buzzed or he has stared at Jon’s mouth for a moment before meeting his stare again? “And I assume it has to do with someone at table nineteen.”

“ _How_  -”

“You’ve been glancing there for the past ten minutes, it’s not that hard to guess.”

“Huh. Well. Yeah,” he admits, shrugging.

“Can I ask who’s the reason or am I overstepping my boundaries?”

Jon snorts and takes a sip of his alcohol. “Maybe, but if you tell me first why you’re here I might consider answering.”

“Fair is fair,” the other man agrees. “Let’s say that coming out to your very Irish and very catholic family past the age of thirty-five when they’re usually very nice people but most of them happen to think that if you’re a man who likes men you’re headed straight downstairs is not the best idea one could have. I don’t even know how that dinner ended.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Jon replies, entirely meaning it. “If it consoles you - the guy with white hair? Well, looks silver in the sunlight, but.”

“Yeah, he stands out. What about him?”

“I’ve been in love with him for… years. I don’t know. It’s always been  _him_ , you know. And he’s getting married the day after tomorrow, this is the stag party and I’m trying to not be seated there before he asks someone else to be his best man. I mean, he  _could_  ask me and I just - I can’t.”

“He doesn’t know, I gather?”

“He has no clue, bless him. Or maybe not.” Jon shrugs. “But - yeah, no, he doesn’t, and I know I’m going to be miserable the day after tomorrow, but I wouldn’t want - I mean, if he asks me I can’t say no, can I?”

“I see,” the guy replies, understanding. For a moment neither of them says a thing and they sip their respective drinks, and then -

“I’m Brynden,” the guy says, extending his hand.

“Jon, nice to meet you, even if the circumstances are terrible,” Jon says, shaking it.

“Let’s say I have a proposition,” Brynden says, still staring straight at him. Jon’s throat is starting to go slightly dry, and that’s a surprise because usually his type is - Rhaegar-looking, he supposes, but maybe it’s a good thing that his new acquaintance and Rhaegar look nothing alike.

“Let’s hear it.”

“You look like you need a distraction. I need about fifteen of them. Your friend’s stag party can’t go on that much longer and from what I see at least one of the people in your group is about to get laid with the waitress. I know a nice, discreet place near here where I used to go a while ago when I couldn’t bring anyone home. What do you say?”

And - thing is, Jon isn’t  _so_  drunk that he can’t take this kind of decision reasonably. He’s definitely sober enough to do it. And - he really doesn’t want to be at this party to be honest, and he doesn’t want to see Rhaegar’s eyes light up when he talks about his future wife lest he loses control and confesses right there and then.  _Brynden_  is not his usual type, true, but that doesn’t mean he’s unattractive. All the contrary, actually, and Jon hasn’t had sex in months at this point. Also, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with getting laid to have a slightly less shitty time, and it looks like the both of them need it.

“You know,” he says, “I’m game. Give me twenty to get there and make Oberyn understand I have a date and I’m coming.”

“Oberyn is not -”

“No, no,  _he_  is Rhaegar. Oberyn is - well, there’s two people in that table who know that I’m not into women. Oberyn’s one, the other is the guy I hope gets asked to be the best man in my place. But let’s say Oberyn would be smart enough to find me an excuse that doesn’t imply outing me to everyone else.”

“Well then,  _Jon_ , I’ll be waiting here. You can also take thirty, I have the entire night.”

Jon can’t help smirking back at Brynden as he says that.

Suddenly, he can’t wait to just settle this and leave, and if he had thought he’d leave this bar drunk and despairing when he walked in while now he feels excited for the first time in ages, he figures it’s not a bad thing at all.

 

End.


	2. in which brynden sells pet fish and jon is in dire need of buying some;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Jon wants to buy Rhaegar pet fish for his aquarium. Good thing he finds the right shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An anon sent me this:
> 
> I HAD TO WRITE IT. This has absolutely no redeeming value past the crack but I absolutely don't regret a second of it. ;)

Jon is  _never_  going to tell anyone that he actually bloody  _looked up aquariums_  before deciding where to go buy that stupid birthday present. To be honest he doesn’t know what’s possessing him to buy Rhaegar an  _aquarium fish_ , but he got one last month and there isn’t a conversation where he doesn’t mention how much he and Elia are having fun going out on the weekends and finding fish to fill it. Jon has seen the thing just once and it’s  _enormous_ , it takes half of the wall, so it always looks empty even if they’ve been trying to fill it for a month.

So he figured that he could just get Rhaegar a fish or two. No big deal, right?

Yeah, right, except that London is  _full_  of places selling pet fish, and he might have - gone on the internet and done some research instead of doing the smart thing and just pick the first on the list.

Sometimes he curses how much he just always  _has_  to go the extra mile when Rhaegar is concerned even if he knows that even if he had told him the truth some fifteen years ago he most probably would have gotten a refusal. Well, no, scratch it, he  _surely_  would have gotten one - it’s not as if Rhaegar ever was anything but straight and Jon might have some serious masochist tendencies and be incapable to move on, but he never deluded himself into thinking he actually had a chance.

And he  _still_  will go the extra mile if  _he’_ s concerned.

He picked  _Riverrun_  because it was near Rhaegar’s place, it had excellent online reviews and from what he gathered it was a small independent shop, not some kind of cog in a pet store chain, and now that he’s standing in front of it he decides it couldn’t have been a bad choice.

If anything, because there’s a sunwashed [GALHA](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FLGBT_Humanists_UK&t=NTlhZDIzNmVhZTEwMjRlYzcyMGM3NWY5MTA1MzE3YWJkOWEyNzU3YSxaeG9YelQzVQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AdgHLSIMGwdyIxk-MZARAFA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fjaniedean.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F142895763563%2Fin-which-im-asoiaf-crackships-trash&m=1) sticker attached to the glass doors and it looks like it’s been there for a long time - surely for long enough that putting it there in the first place might not have been a wise idea when it was new. Considering that Jon secretly had joined that same association some ten years ago, it’s somehow comforting to see it.

He shrugs and walks into the shop - it’s indeed small, the walls filled with flat small aquariums brimming with fish. It has another room in which Jon figures they must have bigger aquariums. There’s no one around or so it seems, and so he figures he’ll check the other room first, but then the only other door in the establishment with STAFF ONLY written outside opens and a man walks out.

“Hello,” the man, presumably the owner, says as he moves behind the counter. He definitely has an Irish accent, though not overtly strong. “Can I help you somehow? You don’t look like you’re very familiar with the merchandise, no offense intended.”

Thing is - Jon has had a few flings here and there, though nothing serious. It was always guys who looked like Rhaegar, more or less, and none of them had ever felt any good in the long run. He also hasn’t really found someone  _attractive_  in years on a level that wasn’t purely theoretical.

But this guy - well, he looks  _nice_. He has a few years on Jon for sure, but for being in his mid-forties - probably - his shape is admirable. He’s only wearing jeans and a blue t-shirt with some kind of black fish printed in the center, and his arms are  _definitely_  well-toned and muscled, though not in a way that might look excessive. There are a few streaks of gray in his medium-length auburn hair, while there’s none in his beard. He has some lines already, but they kind of make him look more fascinating more than anything else. And the large, blue eyes certainly aren’t a chore to look at, are they?

Jon clears his throat.

“Don’t worry, you’re right. I mean, I know nothing about… fish. But a friend just bought an aquarium and it’s his birthday, so - I wanted to get him some.”

“Sounds reasonable. What kind of aquarium does your friend have?”

“Large. It takes up half of a wall. He’s been looking to fill it for a month and it still looks halfway deserted. Also for some reason his fish are all either yellow or red still.”

“So you’re looking for something  _different_?” The man asks.

“Well, yeah. Possibly.”

“How many?”

“Two? Three? I mean, one seems a bit - not enough, you know.”

“All right. And what about the kind of?”

“Er, I really don’t know anything about that. I mean, the most I know about fish is because my, uh, my friend’s son, I was on babysitting duty a lot and he loved  _Finding Nemo_. That’s where all my knowledge comes from. It’s probably lame -”

“Not at all. Well, that’s not a problem. How about a color?”

“Silver, maybe?” Jon asks, cursing himself for even going there. Of course he would say it even if he had told himself he’d pick  _any other color_.

He really will never get over Rhaegar, will he?

“Huh. Not a common choice but sure thing, I think we can arrange some. Come in the other room.”

Jon follows the man inside it and they stop in front of the only medium sized tank in it. There’s a number of small silver fish with red eyes and a few green scales along their sides.

“These are called red-eyed tetras. They’re better suited to medium or large tanks, so I imagine that they’d fit in just fine in your friend’s. They eat your regular fish food and sometimes nibble on soft plants, but that’s about it. They’re fairly easy to keep alive, also. What do you think?”

Jon takes a better look - well, they’re cute, nothing to add. And they  _are_  silver, indeed - three of them would really stand out in that aquarium, wouldn’t they?

“They’re perfect,” he says. “Also, the party is in a short while and my friend lives near, so I guess that if you can give me something to carry them for a short time -”

“Of course. How many?”

“Five,” Jon decides, figuring he should just go for it. “Five will do.”

“Most people who come here only get a couple,” the owner replies, but he sounds amused. “Anyway, sure thing. Wait a moment.”

He leaves and comes back with a transparent smaller tank, already filled with water.

“They’ll survive in this one for the next couple days or so, don’t worry.”

“Uh, I wasn’t. I mean, you’d know better for sure. Thank you, it looks perfect.”

“No problem. Say, I was wondering, any reason why  _silver_? it’s not the color people usually choose. If you don’t want to say, there’s no obligation.” The man starts maneuvering to get the fish from the main tank into the smaller one and Jon shrugs, figuring he won’t be seen.

“No, it’s fine. Uh, let’s just say there’s a sentimental reason.”

The other man nods. “Let me guess, it has to do with your  _friend_?”

Jon is sure that he about goes as red as his hair at that.

“Uh, I -”

“Don’t sweat it, I’ve had that sticker outside my door for the last twelve years and just because the one I had before had become unreadable. I’m not going to judge you for buying fish that remind you of your not-female friend.”

Jon lets out a breath of relief. “Well,  _friend_. I mean, he doesn’t know but I think I’ve been in love with him for some twenty-odd years,” he sighs, and somehow saying it out loud feels  _good_. “And he’s never…  _not_  been straight. It wouldn’t have worked,” he says as the man delicately closes the smaller tank.

“ _Twenty_? Wow, that’s - remarkable. Does he know?”

“I never told him. I mean, considering that his father’s the bad kind of conservative it’s already a miracle he’s, you know, that when I told him I wasn’t into women he just said he suspected it already and nothing was going to change. I wasn’t going to, uh, push it if I didn’t have any chances. God, sorry, I don’t know why am I even saying all this -”

“I asked, didn’t I? Come to the counter, I’ll make this look like a somewhat presentable birthday present.”

Jon follows him - after placing the tank on the counter, he leans down and opens a drawer, grabbing a few red and silver ribbons, scotch and a pair of scissors. He looks at one of the ribbons and cuts it in the middle, then starts wrapping it around the tank. And suddenly the silence just seems too awkward and Jon  _has_  to open his mouth when he probably should have kept it closer.

“Anyway, not many people know that - I mean, that I’ve been in love with him that long. And most who do seem to assume I’m fairly pathetic, so - just, thanks for the understanding, I guess.”

“As if it doesn’t happen to anyone and not just to us poor bastards who are into other poor  _male_  bastards.”

Jon has to laugh at that, and half an hour ago he didn’t feel much cheerful at all.

“Never mind that hey, everyone has their crosses to bear. I mean, let’s say that when I came out it was the early nineties and my father didn’t take it too well. Or my brother, for that matter.”

“Ouch. Conservatives?”

“Very devout Catholics more than that. Anyway, I ended up moving here on my own and I didn’t talk to anyone related to me until my niece also came to London and she called me first thing - turns out she and her siblings never had a problem in the first place. She’s been trying to get my brother to just mellow out for the last ten years for that matter.”

“And how is that going?”

“Could be going worse I suppose. But I mean, I see her and her children regularly, that’s more than I thought would happen when I left. By the way, since we’re caring and sharing, I guess we might introduce ourselves already?”

Jon wants to just slam his head against the wall for having completely failed to do it when he started waxing poetical about Rhaegar - maybe  _that_  was the time.

“Yeah,  _maybe_. I’m Jon, sorry, I should have said it sooner.”

“I didn’t ask either, did I? I’m Brynden. Also what a chance, one of my nephew’s also named Jon - well, guess it’s a common name. Anyway, here you go, there’s your tank.” Jon looks down at it - now it’s all nicely wrapped up with both red and silver ribbons though none of them are closing the small air opening. Brynden opens another drawer and comes up with a small white envelope which he places on top of the tank. “There are instructions about how to care for the fish and what to feed them and the likes in it - I figured you’d have liked it best all in the same place.”

“Oh, yes, thank you. How much do I owe you?”

Brynden just stares at him for a moment, then he leans on the counter. “Let’s say that it depends.”

“It…  _depends_. On what exactly?”

“Well, let’s say that I like to think I have good instincts when it comes to wanting to  _see_  people. Let’s also say that I’ve been around enough that I’m kind of tired of all the fuss twentysomethings put into asking people out.”

For a moment, Jon thinks he understood wrong.

“Let’s also say that if you’re not looking and you’re fine with your current situation we can just pretend I never said anything and you owe me twenty for both the fish and the tank.  _However_ , if you’re amenable to go out for drinks one evening, no obligations or anything, just for the sake of it, I might charge you fifteen for the tank and give you the fish free. No hard feelings either way.”

Scratch that - he understood  _perfectly_.

Now, fact is: Jon hasn’t exactly gone much to bars or anything like that in his life, especially since he realized that it always ended up with a hook-up with someone who sorta maybe looked like Rhaegar and  _wasn’t_  him, which made Jon ten times more miserable in turn. And people don’t exactly come on to him this straightforward if they do at all - he can’t remember the last time anyone did, for that matter, so he’s maybe kind of flattered that it’s happening  _now_  after they’ve talked for what, fifteen minutes? Never mind that they did seem to get along fairly well,  _Brynden_  certainly does  _not_  look like Rhaegar at all and Jon - well, Jon has been wishing he could just  _move on_  for a long time, though he never quite managed to do so. 

He swallows. “What if I say that I could deal with taking the fish for free?”

The other man’s mouth slowly curls up in a smile before he presses a few keys on the check-out register. Then he grabs one of the shop’s business cards and scribbles something on it before handing it to Jon along with a receipt for fifteen pounds.

The card is fairly simple - address, name, a landline. Then there’s a small black trout over them, and there’s a mobile number scribbled over it. Jon smirks and grabs his wallet - he puts the card inside it and tries to see if he has fifteen in cash.

“Is there a reason for the black trout or did you just like it?”

“Well, it’s a family in-joke. I mean, according to what Cat - my niece - says, since I left I’m the black sheep of the family according to most of my relatives back home. At some point she told that story when one of my nephews was there to hear it and he said that it was ridiculous, since I had a  _fish_ store at most I was a black fish, not a black  _sheep_. We both cracked up and then it stuck, but I thought it was cute. And well, at this point I might just embrace it.”

“That’s  _very_  cute,” Jon agrees, handing over the money. Then he grabs another supermarket receipt he had kept inside his wallet before grabbing a pen from the counter. “So what, it’s a nickname?”

“Blackfish? Just for Cat’s kids. Sometimes close friends get to use it.”

“Guess that’s not how I’m going to save your number in my directory then?” Jon is openly smiling as he hands over his receipt with his own cellphone number written on the back.

“Maybe not yet, but I think you have potential to get there quite soon. So, should I call you after your party?”

If you had told Jon one hour ago that he’d say what he’s about to say, he wouldn’t have believed a word of it.

“You  _definitely_  should,” he replies, taking hold of the tank and lifting it off the counter. “I’ll let you know if  _my friend_  likes his present.”

“He’d better. And I will call you.”

“Good. I’m waiting for it, then.”

When he leaves the shop with the tank in his hands just after, Jon realizes that he’s actually  _excited_  about the damned prospect of getting drinks with the guy, and when an hour later Arthur asks him if  _something_  happened, because he looks fairly more cheerful than he usually does at Rhaegar’s birthday parties (well,  _he knows_ , figures that he’d notice), Jon just sips at his drink, stares at one of the silver fish that Rhaegar already put into his huge, fancy aquarium and says that it might have. He doesn’t add  _and I’m looking forward to it_ , but he’s sure there’s no need.

 

End.


End file.
